I couldn't believe it. I just stood and stared at the referee holding the red card aloft. Oh fuck not again, I thought in disbelief. It was the third time this season I'd been sent off, but this time I could protest my innocence until I was puce and it would do no good. I felt a hand on my shoulder and shrugged it off as my anger really began to boil.
"Becca, leave it. Just go." I turned away from the referee. It was Donna, the club captain. "Don't make it worse."
"I didn't fucking touch her." I started indignantly, my anger now just aimed at whoever was nearest. Donna shrugged and nodded towards the touchline. "It's a fucking disgrace." I said and trudged as slowly as possible towards the touchline where my coach stood, his face set, just watching me.
I reached the edge of the pitch and immediately heard the shrill whistle as the ref got the game back underway. We were one up, but there was still over twenty minutes to go. What a disaster.
"I didn't fucking do anything." I snapped at the coach, a twenty year old student from the local university and captain of the first team.
"Go get a shower Rebecca." He said, calling me by my full name and sounding astonishingly like my father.
"But..."
"No. Shower." That was that. A conversation terminated before I could start an argument. He dismissed me with the wave of a finger, his eyes now back on the match, his mind on how he could salvage the game.
I took a deep breath readying myself for battle, but for once thought better of it and trudged silently towards the clubhouse my head bowed.
I'd been sent off twice this season for fighting and it wasn't even Christmas, but today, I'd spent most of the game fending sticks away from my ankles and fists from my kidneys to be sent off for the first foul I'd committed all game.
I swung my foot against the base of the dressing room door. It flew open and smacked satisfyingly against the tiled wall with a hollow bang that echoed across the dressing room, then as the red mist descended I swung my stick against the wooden bench. The graphite hockey stick snapped clean in half and the vibration rattled up my arms until I thought my teeth would fall out. Somewhere behind me the head of the stick clattered to the floor.
"Shit!" I bellowed, looking stupidly at the broken handle. As if a twenty quid fine for the red card was not enough, I was now staring at a bill for sixty for a new stick -- another new stick.
Somewhat humbled, I stooped and picked up the broken piece and chucked them both in the bin before stripping down, stuffing my kit into my bag and grabbing a bottle of shampoo.
Reaching up, I spun the red wheel that turned on the water to the shower block and stepped into the tiled tunnel. Silver shower heads protruding from the walls on both sides. I made my way to the middle and slapped the cold metal button with the palm of my hand.
A jet of water sprang out from the shower head and I stuck my hand tentatively under the stream, feeling it warm up almost instantly. Thank God for that, I thought as I stepped under the jet. The last time I'd been first in, no one had turned the hot water on. It had been so cold I was amazed it wasn't solid. I'd jumped so much when the jet hit me, I had slipped over and cracked my back on the floor.
I let the water wash over my long brown hair and felt the calming patter and splash clean everything away until I was totally wrapped up in my own head with my anger finally beginning to fade.
I lathered shampoo into my hair until rich white suds dripped off and hit the tiled floor with a slap. I used the lather to wash my body and finally began to feel it cleansing my head as well as my skin.
"Bad luck Becca." I spun around at the sudden echo of a voice against the tiles and saw Claire walk up to the shower beside me, as she ran her fingers through her damp hair. "That was the worst decision all season. Utter crap. And all that rolling around. It really pisses me off."
"I just couldn't fucking believe the ref fell for it." I said, immediately coming back to the boil and knowing I wasn't going to let go until I'd vented off at someone. "I hardly touched her. The next thing I know, she's rolling around like I've broken her fucking legs." I don't even know how long Claire let me rant for, I suppose she knew eventually I would take a breath.